


Redamancy

by TheHeathenQueenDickubus



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Disabled Character, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F/M, F/M, Forced Marriage, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Polygamy, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-12 20:31:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11744631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeathenQueenDickubus/pseuds/TheHeathenQueenDickubus
Summary: "Redamancy" - the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.Ivar the Boneless has taken back Kattegat and exacted his revenge upon Queen Lagertha. He couldn't have achieved this without King Johan's army, and so he is forced to marry his unwilling daughter, Princess Arnora as part of the new alliance. They despise each other immediately but are forced into the miserable fate together. A strange and troubled girl eventually comes into the picture and captures Ivar's attention and fascination. She soon plays a big part in changing both Arnora's and Ivar's life entirely.





	1. The King of Kattegat

**Author's Note:**

> \---- = a few hours have passed
> 
> .... = change of POV 
> 
> '''' = weeks have passed
> 
> ;;;; = months have passed

**_"redamancy"_** -  _the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full._

 

 

The harsh winds had caused the salty ocean waves to crash violently upon his land, bringing him in and back out of reality. His troubled mind seemed to be filled to the brim with his many fleeting thoughts. He had finally taken Kattegat for his own; called himself 'king' behind his brothers' backs. He had earned it hadn't he? Where were they during his great victory over Lagertha? They had abandoned him. Off skipping around foreign lands while the bitch who had murdered their mother lived out her days in their own home, alive and well. No, they did not deserve this new title of 'king'. 

 

Taking the great Bjorn Ironside captive proved to be quite challenging in the process. But he had prevailed and he was now challenged even further by thoughts of what exactly to do with him next. They were still brothers; though Ivar did not care much for him. Bjorn would kill him in a moment without a second thought, to avenge his own mother's death by Ivar's hand. He smiled sardonically to himself at the sudden memory. The bitch had tried her best to pose a threat to him; him! Ivar the Boneless; he was convinced that no one could truly kill him, least of all some simple whore who liked to pretend she was anything even close to queen of Kattegat. He took his time with her; as much time as he could with the battle raging on around them. Her screams; her own copious amounts of blood rushing away from her onto the floor; mixed amongst the mud and rain. His smile only grew bigger as the scene replayed vividly in front of his eyes.

 

"King Ivar." Her irritating voice brought him out of that dark corner of his mind then. His now dark eyes shot up to find her gentle, hazel ones looking down at him. "I am Princess Arnora, daughter of Johan." She continued; smiling like a sweet idiot at him. That's right, he had almost forgotten why he was out here. Waiting in the freezing cold, at the docks; he was waiting for her and now here she was, his very own, very soon to be, wife. Johan's army had won them the battle; and Ivar could only obtain that army through marriage it had seemed. She was quite pretty with her almost black hair contrasting with pale skin. Though, her gentle eyes failed to conceal that same look of fear and disgust every woman that looked his way often held. It was fated to be Margrethe all over again; he already knew, except this time she wouldn't be able to escape to one of his brothers; or both of them, for that matter. Ivar began to feel that familiar rage creep up on him at the disgusting memory. 

 

The Princess that still stood in front of him began to shift awkwardly; visibly uncomfortable by his lack of words or actions. "I... I look forward to our wedding-" Ivar scoffed quite loudly at that pathetic lie; forcing her to halt her words entirely. She finally averted her eyes to the ground and the ridiculous act had been abandoned completely; she revealed her fear, disgust, misery, all at the same time in that short moment. She began to shake. Ivar rolled his eyes and glanced off to the side, at the rolling waves again. They both endured the silence then as they silently accepted their fated future together. 

 

....

 

"Ivar the Boneless calls himself 'king' while Queen Lagertha lay dead in Kattegat. It seems you have failed after all to form a good alliance for us, brother." She tormented him further with a smile plastered on her face. King Sverting said nothing in response, still pacing back and forth in front of her; deep in thought. She stood up with her empty cup still in hand and staggered towards the table that held more ale. "I told you this would happen. You didn't even bother coming to her aid in the end because I was right! And you knew it!" She laughed as she continued to challenge him; downing more of her liquid courage. 

 

Sverting had enough then; whipping around and storming towards her with fire in his eyes. She quickly attempted to turn and flee only for him to grab ahold of her arm and then her throat. "Not now, Freygerd." He warned in a low and dark voice and she felt her fear of him quickly return through her drunkenness. She struggled and pleaded with him through her eyes. He squeezed her throat hard before finally releasing her; letting her fall to the ground. Freygerd held onto her now sore neck as she coughed and gasped for air. Sverting laughed cruelly down at her before walking away. Freygerd stared daggers at her foolish brother as his back was turned. "You have to do something. The moment you show any kind of weakness is the moment we will have lost whatever is left of our pathetic army! You are a king now, act like it!" 

 

Sverting scoffed at her before suddenly spinning around with a new, cold grin and an idea. "How about, Clotilda?" Freygerd felt a pang of immense sadness and guilt at the mention of her troubled, young niece's name. "What about her?" Freygerd asked slowly. "She is a princess, a true heir. Let's offer her to this Ivar the Boneless as part of a new alliance agreement!" Freygerd was quick to act with her words; enraged by the proposal and protective of her young niece. "I would never let you marry her off to that monster! Never!" She had risen from the ground now and looked up at him defiantly. "And have you not heard? Johan's daughter is already arranged to marry him. We should be fighting this new threat, not trying to worm our way into yet another alliance! It is weak!" 

 

Sverting held his hands up in defense of her heated words. "Okay. You have convinced me. Our poor, simple niece is safe for now. But if we are to attack Ivar the Boneless we must act quick; strike now while he thinks he is safe." Freygerd breathed a small sigh of relief before nodding with a newly acquired, sardonic sort of grin. "Now, brother,  you are starting to sound like a king." 

 

....

 

The ceremony had been quick and dull. Lacking everything a wedding ought to have. Everything she used to dream her wedding day would undoubtedly have. Just as she had expected. Her new husband and king now sat by her side, brooding, as the feast raged on in front of them both. Fearsome warriors sung and laughed and continued to drink and shout over each other. The fire in the middle of the hall burned bright and she could see the cheerful and now deranged men drunkenly wrestle and dance and cheer behind the rising flames. 

 

She felt an arm about her waist suddenly; pulling her in closer to him. Arnora snapped her head around to look at Ivar. She had never seen blue eyes so black before looking into his for the first time at the docks. Those same eyes stared deep into her soul now as his grip around her waist tightened. He was clearly a bit drunk as he reached to grip her jaw tightly, leaning in for a sloppy and somewhat awkward first kiss. Arnora shut her eyes tight as he invaded her mouth; refusing to kiss him back. He growled through his harsh kiss; she remained completely still; he seemed to long for a much more significant response from her. Arnora eventually pulled away from him and seized the chance to remove herself from her throne and from the feasting hall entirely.

 

Arnora maneuvered her way around the drunken warriors as quickly as she could. Tears began to well up in her eyes as most of them congratulated her as she rushed past. Outside she breathed a sigh of relief in her solitude and leant against a wall, letting the tears fall from her hazel eyes completely. She couldn't do this. She couldn't stay married to the monster they called 'Ivar the Boneless'. Tales of his violent and cruel tendencies had reached her ears before even arriving in Kattegat. The women on the ship that she had considered friends had great fun telling her twisted tales all about him; all about how the monster would certainly enjoy taking all of his sadistic needs out on her now. She was frightened. Terrified. And stuck here. Far away from her home. An involuntary sob escaped her trembling lips then. 

 

She threw a hand over her mouth to silence her cries. "Queen Arnora! How is our blushing bride?!" A gruff voice cut through the short lived silence and startled her. "Fine." She responded quickly, looking away from the approaching man and desperately trying to dry her tears. "You certainly don't look fine." The giant stranger responded in a low voice while approaching her. Arnora inched away slightly; visibly shaking now. She didn't know who this man was but he obviously intended to harm her in some way. She said nothing; frozen in fear before his hand shot out; roughly grabbing ahold of her wrist. Arnora cried out and attempted to push away from him but he only pulled her in closer. "Please!" She could see the tall man's face more clearly now; he was older than her, probably having a good ten years on her and his face was littered with all kinds of scars. He leant down close to her.

 

"The princess should not be wandering around a place such as this, alone." He spoke through gritted teeth now. "I-I am your queen now." She spoke up to him shakily. Trying her best to gain something from her new title; she could hopefully use it to gain some authority over the vile man. "No. You're not my queen, princess. The only one who rules over me is your father, King Johan." Arnora's eyes widened at the mention of her father's name. "My father? You're loyal to my father?" The man nodded slowly before opening his mouth to speak once again. "He sent me here to keep you safe and when the time's right, to help you escape." Confusion and a new and dangerous feeling of hope began to fill Arnora. "Escape?" The man nodded again. "King Johan is raising a large army to overthrow your husband and take Kattegat for himself. And of course, save his only daughter in the process. It was all part of his plan, princess." 

 

His grip on her had softened as he continued speaking of her father's supposed plan to rescue her and take the thriving village of Kattegat. Arnora still remained a little suspicious of everything he was stating. "This is not a trick? My father really sent you?" The man nodded again, somewhat impatient with her many questions. "I'm Jarlebanke." At this point he had released her completely, she stood, still slightly shaky but somewhat comforted now by this, Jarlebanke's presence. "You didn't think your father would really abandon you to a fate such as this forever, did you?"

 

....

 

"Where is father?" Her niece's soft voice echoed throughout the room and Freygerd could only shut her eyes in response to the shaky question; attempting to conceal her tears. "I thought you were asleep, Clotilda." 

 

"Where is mother?" Freygerd stood up from her chair by her niece's bed abruptly then and hastily turned to leave. She felt Clotilda's hand grab ahold of her arm softly, causing her to halt and sigh heavily. "Please!" The poor girl; whatever sickness of the mind she continued to suffer from seemed to be affecting her memory as of late now as well. With her parent's deaths, her condition had only worsened. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!" She began screaming and crying; throwing another violent tantrum as if she were no better than a child. "Clotilda, stop." Freygerd warned but the girl began hurling things across the room and writhing around on the bed. "Clotilda! Stop this! Stop!" Freygerd wrapped her arms around her troubled niece in an attempt to hold her still.

 

"Your mother and father are in Valhalla, Clotilda! I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry!" Her niece froze then. "What?" She had asked with a quivering voice; a violent sob threatened to escape her lips at any moment. "You ask everyday, child and I tell you everyday. When will you accept it? It pains me to bring it up to you again and again, Clotilda." Freygerd had begun to sob now too, along with her niece. "Please, Clotilda I need you to understand and try to be strong for me. Help me." Her tears continued to fall as she hugged the girl tight. Her niece whined and sobbed before beginning to fight in her arms once again. "Let go!" She screamed as she managed to get free of her hold and run off out of the room. "Clotilda!" Freygerd yelled out after her before surrendering completely to her own sobs. 

 

\----

 

"Where did you see her last?" Sverting sighed. Freygerd sat before him now; a complete wreck. Clotilda was missing and it was her fault. "She ran out of her room after I told her of our brother's death... again." Sverting sighed a second time and Freygerd glared up at him. "Can you at least act like you give a damn?" Sverting simply shrugged at her. "How can I even act when I don't? I'm concerned for your sake, dear sister. That is all. We should be focusing on the battle we will be fighting tomorrow! We will be attempting to take Kattegat from a powerful enemy. We must plan! Stay focused! Not waste time on where our idiotic, demented niece has wandered off to now!" She smacked him despite everything screaming at her not to push her luck any further with her now cruel, older brother. Before Sverting could properly react; Clotilda had suddenly appeared; rushing into the room looking quite disheveled and panicked. "Clotilda!" Freygerd exclaimed, relieved before rushing over to her niece and bringing her in for a loving hug. When she pulled away to stare at her, she noticed the ever growing concern in her eyes. "Clotilda, what's wrong?" The younger girl's eyes began to fill up with more tears as she asked the question Freygerd dreaded. "Where is father?"

 

....

 

It was almost dawn. Ivar finished the small mouthful of ale left in his cup before hurling it across the now empty feasting room. He leant back in his throne and sighed heavily. His heavy eyes threatening to shut at any moment, sending him off into deep unconsciousness; free from his doubt filled mind and his growing misery. Here he was, king of Kattegat and he felt even less than he had when he was nothing. Killing Lagertha had not freed him of his pain or grief like he thought it would have. It had not changed anything and yet it had changed quite a lot. He felt forced to sit perched upon this pathetic throne all of his life now; for if he left, several more of his enemies would rush back to steal what was rightfully his, once again. 

 

Yet, all Ivar wanted was to keep fighting; keep conquering; keep basking in the victories of his battles; keep proving he was worth a damn; worth more than king of the same shithole he grew up hating. The people of Kattegat would never truly warm to him now. They never did. He groaned as his drunken mind continued to feed him thoughts of anger, hate, ambition, bloodlust and plain old lust. His mind found Arnora then and he sighed again at the thought of her. The bitch already hated his guts and he already longed to see hers splayed across the floor. The way she had stormed out in front of everyone like that; in front of his loyal men; he had wanted to end her right then and there. He heaved himself out of his chair suddenly with a grunt and grabbed ahold of his crutches, beginning the long journey to his bed with a newfound rage. 

 

Upon finally arriving, he found Arnora already curled up and asleep in the bed. He made his way towards the inviting looking furs and collapsed upon them next to his wife; the bed dipping under his weight. Ivar turned to face her then as her back was turned to him. He rested a hand on his wife's shoulder and slightly shook her in an attempt to wake her. When there was no response, he shook harder. She seemed to shut her eyes even tighter in retaliation. So, she was feigning sleep. "Open your eyes." Ivar growled at her as she continued to ignore him. He roughly pulled her onto her back and quickly positioned his large body on top of hers, pinning her down completely. "Stop it!" She screamed up at him as she fought under his weight. "Shhh." Ivar hushed her as he placed a large hand over her mouth and ran his other hand soothingly through her hair in order to calm her down. Ivar leant down to place a soft kiss upon her forehead and she actually recoiled at the touch of his lips.

 

He dropped the act immediately then; his rage taking over entirely. He couldn't even enjoy a woman that was meant to be his own wife. His soothing touch became quite rough as he grabbed a fistful of the dark hair on top of her head then. She cried out in response. His other hand moved away from it's place over her soft lips and finally around her skinny, pitiful neck. He squeezed hard as Sigurd's parting words echoed in his head. *"She was the only one who ever truly loved you."* Gods, it was true. Aslaug was the last person on this earth that could love the monster; that could love him, but she was his own mother, it was her duty to love him, wasn't it? 

 

He figured he might as well finish choking the life out of the dumb bitch under him to save him a lifetime of that same disgusted and fearful look that would be evident in her pretty eyes every time she ever looked over at him. She proved Sigurd right every moment she continued to breathe. Ivar leant down close to her panicked, reddening face; his hot and heavy breaths blowing the dark strands of hair out of her wide eyes. Before she could breathe her last, pathetic breath Ivar shut his eyes, gave up and finally let go, rolling over onto his back beside her. 

 

Arnora gasped and began sobbing hysterically; crawling away from him and eventually falling off of the bed and onto the hard ground below. "Don't touch me! Stay away from me!" She screamed up at him as she scrambled into a small corner of the room. Ivar blinked out of his drunken rage as he lay and watched the sobbing mess of a girl finally scream up at him; letting go of her politeness and shyness; settling for rage and madness now instead. He had done this to her in a matter of a few moments. He really was a monster, wasn't he?

 

Ivar let out another long and drawn out sigh. He had had enough of this endless fucking, unbearable day. He had had enough of his pretty, little wife. He had had enough of being king and he had had enough of the all consuming anger and grief. He had had enough of the unrelenting fucking pain. He longed to fall into a deep, deep unconsciousness and leave behind all of the trouble he had already caused. Ivar hastily fell into deep sleep without much fight then. Retiring peacefully into the empty blackness of his mind. 

 

....

 

Her mind was racing. She was sure her tormentor was finally asleep but she couldn't be positive. Arnora continued to cry softly now as she stared up at the roof of the small room; wishing with all of her being to wake up back in the safety of her own halls. He had almost taken her life in a matter of moments. Jarlebanke had told her to just please him for the time being, until the time came to escape; but she had refused. She would never give herself to this monster she was forced to call her husband. 

 

She hated him! But above all she was terrified of him. Terrified of what went on behind those dark eyes when he looked over at her. He was dangerous. She feared even her father might not be able to protect her from this monster. 

 

As tears continued to fall from her eyes and onto the wooden floor below, she noticed something. His axe was still sitting in his belt, at his side. A very dangerous and terrifying idea ran away with her mind and no matter how hard she tried to shake it away, it only grew more appeasing to her. Arnora couldn't seem to stop herself from cautiously beginning to crawl towards the bed then; towards the very sharp looking axe hanging from his side. This could be her only chance before he finally killed her; by Odin he was the one who was going to die tonight. 


	2. The Battle For Kattegat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---- = a few hours have passed
> 
> .... = change of POV
> 
> '''' = weeks have passed
> 
> ;;;; = months have passed

The bed slightly dipped on her side now as she carefully and quietly crawled upon it, once again. The axe was so close; just within her reach, yet a million miles away. Arnora took the chance to properly look over her husband then. The monster had finally seemed completely at peace. His rhythmic breaths were light and his face looked almost calm; almost content as he continued to dream. 

Under the blood, the terror, the cruelty and the unsettling, predatory smirks; she had to admit that he was handsome. He was also a vicious, miserable, borderline psychopath, who would happily murder her in her sleep, if she ever gave him the chance. Arnora shook her thoughts away then and focused her gaze and mind solely back on the axe at his side. What was she doing? Was she entirely mad? She had told herself that she should just wait, bide her time, like Jarlebanke had urged her to. But how long until her unstable husband finally did snap her neck in half in another fit of rage, without a second thought? 

She was immensely conflicted about what she was about to go through with; but she found herself still shakily reaching out for the axe; heart racing. Her breaths quickened and time seemed to completely stop around them then as her fingertips finally touched the cold steel; wrapping weakly around the handle. Arnora froze, held her breath and closed her eyes, tight. She pulled the axe abruptly out of his belt only to gasp in pure terror as the Boneless's eyes immediately shot open in response. His hand shot out, snatching the axe back off of her, out of her ever weakening grip. Arnora found herself frozen with terror as she watched him sit up and examine the treasured weapon before letting his now murderous eyes fall right back on her. 

Everything screamed at her to run; but she didn't dare move a muscle, as if her sudden stillness could hide her from him somehow. She was wrong in assuming so. His hand was quickly back around her throat before she could properly react. This was it. He was going to kill her now. She shut her tear filled eyes and awaited the large hand to snap her skinny neck right in half, then and there. 

Shouts, battlecries, clashing shields and the sounds of metal on metal could suddenly be heard, coming from outside. Arnora opened her eyes again and saw that her husband was now occupied with gazing at the entrance to their room with a look of pure confusion and rage. His wild eyes no longer were interested in terrorizing her own. He released her and she breathed a huge sigh of relief as she watched him hastily grab his crutches and rush to make his way out of the room to find out exactly what was happening. Arnora's heart lifted at the familiar sounds of an invasion. She was sure it was her father's army; finally here to save her just like Jarlebanke had promised. Arnora quickly grabbed her cloak and pulled on her boots, preparing to rush out and go home.

....

As soon as she had saw Kattegat, she knew it was a mistake for Sverting to even try and take over the substantial village. The newly built defenses of the once small village, as well as the army now loyal to Ivar the Boneless, threatened to crush their little rebellion in mere moments. 

"Sverting, we must turn back!" Freygerd now pleaded with her brother. He simply laughed in her face. "This was your idea, Freygerd. I am the king after all now. Turning back certainly wouldn't be very, kingly, wouldn't you agree?" He was right, but losing all of their army and many of their followers because of their fleeing seemed like a much better option then visiting Valhalla sooner then they both intended. 

"I was wrong, Sverting! Turn back now; we cannot win!" He continued to smile at her, wearing her patience thin. "Did you just admit you were wrong, dear sister?" He laughed again, maniacally at her before rushing off with the rest of his pitiful army. Freygerd stood and watched as her brother charged into battle for what would undoubtedly be the last time. 

She hung back and discarded her decorated shield carelessly onto the muddy ground below. A sudden, small smirk played at her lips then as she mounted her horse and rode off towards her home, as it's new queen. 

....

"Tell me, what is going on?!" He demanded an answer from one of the soldiers that rushed past him then. He stopped to answer his king. "An army is attempting to take Kattegat!" The man responded over the clashing of swords and axes. "What army?!" Ivar inquired with growing frustration. "I don't know, King Ivar." His soldier responded quickly again. Ivar snarled and waved him away as he tried to get his bearings and plan out exactly what to do next.

His mind was racing as his wild eyes scanned the pitiful, unknown army attempting to defeat many of his men. He looked at the axe still in his firm grip from when he had snatched it off of his wretched wife. A loud battlecry suddenly caught his attention as he snapped his head up to see a crazed, blood drenched man running towards him, wielding a giant sword. Ivar held up his own axe in anticipation and managed to bury it directly into the man's now unrecognizable face. He growled at the dead man still connected to his axe. Blood had sprayed over his face and in his eyes. He smirked and looked around for the next fool who dared to try and attack, Ivar the Boneless.

Arnora had suddenly entered his vision as she rushed past him out of the house and into the middle of the battle still raging on. The stupid girl. Ivar watched her with wide eyes as she speedily dodged blows from various men while continuing to maneuver her way through the battle to some sort of safety. He continued to watch her intently to see just where she planned to go and what she would do with herself amid the beautiful chaos of the battle for Kattegat.

....

As soon as she had rushed out into the battle she had regretted it. Her heart was now pounding and her tears freely falling as the closeness of death continued to traumatize her. Arnora screamed and sobbed as she somehow managed to dodge attacks from all angles. These were not her father's men. Their strangely decorated shields told her that, as much as their attempts to murder her had. 

"Princess!" Arnora spun around at the sound of the familiar, gruff voice addressing her. Jarlebanke was rushing towards her; cutting men down from all sides as he did so. He finally reached her and looked surprisingly, overly concerned. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt, Princess?!" She could only shake her head in response; too traumatized to even think about forming words. A crazed looking man lunged towards both of them then; teeth baring and axe lifted high above his head, ready to bury itself into one of them. Arnora screamed and Jarlebanke grabbed ahold of her arm tightly; pulling her behind him as he lifted his own axe to clash with the crazed man's one. "Stay behind me!" Jarlebanke yelled back at her before continuing to block several blows from the man, before finally lodging his weapon deep inside the stomach of his enemy. 

Blood sprayed all over him. Blood sprayed all over her shaking form and now sickly, pale face. A large man fell into her suddenly, shoving her harshly onto the muddy floor below. Arnora cried out from the painful force as she landed on the ground. The same, giant man now stood over her, lifting a sword high above his head; ready to to bury it into her skull. She froze and shut her eyes. This was it.

Something else sprayed over her face then; coming in contact with her instead of the sword. The warm liquid quickly ran down her eyes and nose and over her lips. Her tongue involuntarily shot out to taste the liquid. The harsh, salty, copper taste confirmed what she undoubtedly knew; it was blood. She opened her eyes to see the large man frozen above her; trembling, mouth gaping wide, sword threatening to fall out of his weakened grip at any moment now; and a crimson colored blade lodged firmly in his chest from behind. 

The man finally fell to the floor with a hard thud right next to her to reveal The Boneless himself holding the sword that had slain the beast of a man. He was covered entirely in blood and his eyes were now crazed. "Have you had enough of exploring the battlefield now, wife?" He had asked in a very sarcastic and irritated laced voice. Arnora had just continued to stare up at his own blood drenched face with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "Get back inside, now." He ordered her through gritted teeth. Arnora could only shake her head profusely up at him; wanting to be anywhere else but back in those chambers, with him. 

His irritation quickly turned back into rage as he glared down at her. He opened his mouth to throw even more threats her way only to be interrupted by Erlend, one of his loyal men. "King Ivar! Here is the man responsible for tonight's little charade!" Erlend pushed the man who was apparently responsible, into the mud below. "I give you King Sverting. A man once loyal to Queen Lagertha." 

The battle had died down now; her husband's men had seemed to annihilate the small, opposing army. Arnora looked back up at Ivar who was now focusing all his attention and rage that had been built up just for her, onto this, King Sverting now. "Ivar the Boneless! It is a great pleasure!" The man had begun in a surprisingly, singsong voice despite his predicament. Ivar continued to throw daggers at the man as he moved his crutches and begun to make his way, slowly over to him. "This charade was actually all of my dear sister's idea. My dear sister who is now most likely sitting on my family's throne and calling herself 'queen' as we speak! I wanted to offer you up an alliance! An alliance that is still open for discussion, Boneless! I have a very lovely niece!" 

"And I have a wife." Ivar concluded in a dark, sarcastic tone as he continued to make his way ever so closer to the now, almost begging man. "There is no law against a man having two wives!" Sverting tried. "One is already trying my very thin patience. Two is the last fucking thing I could ever want." Ivar countered. 

"I understand, marriage isn't easy! But it can be very-" Ivar delivered a hefty blow using one of his crutches, to the face of the king then, knocking out a few of his teeth, almost breaking his jaw and shutting him up quite quickly. "Shut your fucking mouth! You aren't leaving Kattegat alive, I can assure you of that!" Ivar raised his voice; completely driven by anger now. "And let everyone hear this! I banish you from entering the halls of Valhalla! From feasting with the gods and from fucking Freyja herself atop the feasting table! As a descendant of Odin himself, my banishment will be heard and honored by all the gods!" He screamed triumphantly and intimidatingly down at the man who had finally lost all hope, before driving the large sword still in his grip right through his throat. A sadistic grin formed on Ivar's face as blood splattered everywhere. King Sverting's widened eyes rolled back into his head. Ivar laughed darkly at the sight of yet another dead enemy. Arnora trembled and shielded her eyes once again from the disturbing sight.

....

"Clotilda!" She cheerfully called out for her niece as she burst through the main hall's doors. "I am back, Clotilda! Uncle Sverting is gone and I am queen! We can now start our new and lovely life together, dear child!" Freygerd collapsed into her new throne then and breathed a sigh of relief. Her plan had worked. Her foolish, cruel brother was dead and their land was now completely hers. And she had very big plans for her rule. 

"Clotilda!" Freygerd called out again; growing slightly impatient with her simple niece. She sighed heavily and pulled herself out of the very inviting chair to go search for Clotilda. 

Her room and bed were empty and she couldn't be found in any of the surrounding halls. Freygerd began to feel increasingly panicked. "Clotilda?! Clotilda!" She screamed out her niece's name as she frantically rushed around her empty halls. A slave rushed to her aid then with a questioning expression. "Mistress, what is it?" She inquired with visibly, forced concern. "Where is Clotilda?!" The slave appeared confused then, but refused to speak. Freygerd rolled her eyes and pulled the axe at her side out of her belt to threaten the pitiful slave with. "Tell me where she is!" She had asked again and the slave turned pale at the sight of Freygerd's axe. "I thought you knew, mistress! Please! King Sverting sent those two men to take the Princess with you all! There was nothing I could do to stop them! I thought you knew! I thought you knew!" The slave pleaded with her desperately. 

Freygerd froze in realization. Her eyes widening. "Sverting! You sniveling, wretched, dog!" She cursed her brother under her breath who was more than likely still laughing down at her from his place in Valhalla. She remembered him whispering orders to two of his loyal men before they had left for Kattegat while giving her yet another overly, sly smirk. It didn't register until now. His plan. Bringing Clotilda with them after all as some kind of desperate, last resort, backup alliance plan. It meant she was still in Kattegat somewhere; possibly lying dead amid the horrid battle.

Tears began to form in Freygerd's eyes as she thought about her scared and innocent, niece cowering from the fierce and frightening warriors. She quickly turned her sudden, immense grief into rage as she looked back up at the trembling slave in front of her who was partly responsible for poor, Clotilda's supposed demise. In one, swift motion she had cut the servant down before throwing the axe off to the side. She fell to her knees and wept. "I'm sorry, Clotilda. I tried to keep you safe. Please forgive me." 

....

"King Ivar." The man's increasingly irritating voice addressed him once again. Ivar continued to stare into the soul of his timid wife that now sat before him; still trembling. "What do you want?" He questioned in a very low and dangerous voice as he refused to take his eyes off of her to even glance at Erlend, who continued to linger somewhat nervously and irritatingly in front of his throne. "Sorry, King Ivar but we have something that may be of some interest to you." Erlend spoke before him then, in an increasingly confident voice. 

Ivar sighed while rolling his eyes; tearing them away from Arnora to finally gaze at him. "Well? What is it?!" Ivar questioned abruptly as his rage and exhaustion continued to eat away at his fed up mind. "Well, let me just get it!" Erlend's voice seemed to lose all of it's sudden confidence then as he awkwardly rushed away to retrieve whatever it was that he thought he would even be remotely interested in. 

He took the chance as Erlend was briefly absent to gaze back down at his pathetic excuse for a queen then. She sat on the floor; weeping, trembling and still covered in blood from the battle. Her head hung and her dark, raven like hair hid her pretty face from him entirely. "Do not think we are done here, bitch. If you ever try anything like what you tried tonight, again; I will make sure to detach your pretty head from your pretty body, myself." Ivar warned her in a low and serious voice. He ought to have killed her right then and there for her failed attempt at murdering him in his sleep, with his own axe. Arnora simply stared up at him again from her place on the floor; her eyes grew cold and emotionless now as she challenged him with her seemingly, defiant gaze. 

Ivar gripped his throne as he leant forward; keeping his own cold and vengeful eyes on hers. "Now go run back to my chambers, wife before you do something else entirely idiotic to force my hands around your pitiful fucking throat again." His words were honeyed but the context of them were far from sweet. He smiled sadistically at her as he watched her shakily stand and walk off out of the main hall to their room. As soon as she had left, the forced smile wiped itself completely from his face. Ivar scoffed and sat back in his throne; continuing to brood with a low groan; hand moving to his forehead to pinch the sides of his temple in pure exhaustion. 

"King Ivar." Erlend's same, irritating voice repeated, cutting through his thoughts once again, as he reentered the hall. "What?! I am this close to tearing the lungs out through your fucking throat, Erlend. What is it?!" Ivar finally erupted only to find his now explosive rage quickly subsiding, as he lifted his head from his hand and spotted her. "Who is this?" Ivar demanded immediately then as he continued to stare at the wide-eyed girl standing idly behind Erlend. "This is what I was telling you about, the thing you would be quite interested in, King Ivar." Erlend informed him rather quickly then, longing not to remain on the King's bad side. "This is Princess Clotilda, the niece of King Sverting." 

Clotilda had long, honeyed hair. blue eyes and a few freckles littering her nose. She was quite pretty despite the dumb, absent, far away look evident in her big eyes; with a very youthful and sweet face. Ivar found himself immediately intrigued by the girl. Complete silence took over the hall as he continued to stare intently at the Princess. Erlend shifted his weight awkwardly before opening his mouth to hastily speak again. "We found her with two of Sverting's men, not far from the battle. She would make a valuable hostage if Sverting's sister, Freygerd, ever attempted to pick up where her brother left off. We should-"

"What's wrong with her?" Ivar questioned suddenly then; his eyes never leaving her now slightly, idly swaying form. He could immediately tell that there was something indeed different and quite off about the girl as he continued to look her up and down from his chair. Erlend stopped speaking to turn around and stare at the Princess himself. "Uh-ah, it seems there may be something wrong with her-"

"Yes, I can clearly see that, Erlend, but what exactly?!" Ivar responded through gritted teeth then as he tore his gaze away from Clotilda to stare at the idiot. "Some sickness of the mind, perhaps. She has remained completely unresponsive since we found her." Ivar looked back at her with curious eyes then. "Princess." He tried, longing to gain her attention, but she only continued to absently stare someplace behind him; seemingly lost in her own little world. "Princess!" Ivar addressed her again, slightly more impatiently. No response. Ivar huffed and grabbed ahold of his crutches to make his way over to her. He heaved himself out of the throne and grunted as he dragged himself towards the girl. 

Upon reaching her, he examined her more closely. She proved to be much more beautiful, up close. She continued to gaze behind him; a hint of sadness now slightly evident in her eyes as he took a closer look at them. "Clotilda." Ivar then spoke her name in a surprisingly, soft voice; feeling somewhat sorry for the troubled girl. To his shock and absolute, hidden glee, she turned to look at him then; blinking out of whatever trance she was in. It was Clotilda's turn to look him up and down curiously; something in her eyes seemed to light up at the sight of him and just that alone, had rendered him completely speechless. No signs of disgust or hate or fear. Her lips parted as though she were about to speak, but only air had escaped. Ivar could spot a slight gap between her two front teeth; the rest of her teeth sat quite crookedly. He found himself acquiring a sudden urge to embrace her and invade that pretty mouth, yet he still found himself frozen; completely under the sweet spell of her ever curious gaze.

"King Ivar?" Erlend interrupted irritatingly again and Ivar could only roll his eyes in response. He turned to face him with another glare then. "She will stay in this hall, in the chambers next to my own until I decide what to do with her, understand?" Erlend only nodded slowly in response while looking between him and Clotilda. Ivar took one last, long look at the Princess, before moving past her and hastily making his way out of the great hall. 

....

The morning light from outside seeped through the small window of the room and onto her still, blood drenched skin. She continued to replay everything that had just happened in her very exhausted mind. Arnora found that she could no longer produce anymore tears as she lay on the bed, traumatized and still trembling. Flashes of wild looking men impaled by swords and axes; flashes of blood, detached limbs and flashes of every moment she herself, had almost perished in the battle, ran through her mind. 

She drew a shaky breath and did her best to shake the thoughts away. But they wouldn't go away. "Princess." Jarlebanke's familiar and comforting voice filled the room then. Arnora sat up from the bed to see him lingering awkwardly at the entrance of the chambers. She smiled weakly at him. "Jarlebanke, come in." He nodded and walked towards the bed, sitting next to her. His weight caused the bed to dip and her to slide slightly closer to him. Arnora averted her eyes to the ground as he cleared his throat. "You saved my life." She stated then, warmed by the memory of him bravely protecting her in battle. He was the only one who could protect her in this prison now. "Thank you, Jarlebanke." He scoffed at her. "It's what I am here to do, Princess." She looked back at him again, this time vaguely hurt by his response. He was only there by the orders of her father, he of course didn't truly care for her. No one here cared for her truly. She was still all alone. The dreaded feeling of fear slowly returned at the realization.

Arnora averted her eyes to the ground once again as she discovered that the tears never fully went away; they were returning with a vengeance. "I mean..." he sighed as he continued to speak, "...even if it wasn't ordered of me, i'd still want nothing more than to to be protecting you, Princess." Her heart warmed at his soft yet somewhat awkward words then. Even if they were only spoken to force her not to think wrongly of him, it still meant the world to her. The tears fell. His hand on her shoulder made her jump and look up into his dark eyes again. Jarlebanke reached a hand out to gently wipe away her new tears. She closed her eyes and leant into his strong body, letting his arms wrap around her, protectively. The memories of war soon began to fade away and sleep took over completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- For anything at all, you can find me on my Tumblr, under the name theheathenqueendickubus x

**Author's Note:**

> I was absolutely terrified to start posting this story online. One of the main reasons being because I just don't think I can do some of the characters and the story and meaning itself that I had in mind, justice. But, I am very much excited to advance it anyway and I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, at least a little bit! 
> 
> \- For anything at all, you can find me on my tumblr, under the name theheathenqueendickubus x


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